“You have to eat if you want to keep up with me.”

her hands held out a bowl of warm soup to you, as she studied you from head to floor

you didn’t believe that running away from your family, who wanted to sell you in marriage to a decrepit old man, could lead you into the arms of such a cryptic figure.

And yet there you were, curled up in a bridal kimono in the corner of an old blacksmith’s hut, in the company of a singular samurai whose name you’re lucky to know, but who in that situation looks more like an angel of salvation

“Come on, at least finish the broth.”